


That's Christmas to Me

by Chngminxo



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: A daejae drabble a banglo and a himup, Angst, Christmas, M/M, Merry Christmas, Really just drabbles, bless, hinted romantic relationships - Freeform, other than himup lol they legit, that make little sense, three teeny drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chngminxo/pseuds/Chngminxo
Summary: It had been snowing since the night before.





	That's Christmas to Me

Christmas had been the hardest time of year for Daehyun ever since he moved to Seoul, and that's why when Youngjae turned up to his apartment on Christmas Eve with hands full of grocery bags, he couldn't stop the tightening in his throat. He stood in the door to the kitchen and watched as Youngjae unpacked the shopping, chatting happily as he set cans on shelves and veggies in the fridge, all the while putting small bits and pieces ready on the counter.

 

“I thought you would need toilet paper, you never buy it until it's already out.” Youngjae was saying as he set down a carton of eggs, a sachet of cinnamon and another of cardamum, a blue packet of flour, a red one of sugar.

 

It had been snowing since the night before, and small white flakes still clung to the tips of Youngjae's hair, trying desperately to stay whole as they thawed limb by limb until, before Daehyun's eyes, they disappeared altogether. Winter would be depressing if it weren't so beautiful.

 

“I got you a new toothbrush, too, because you never replace yours at all.” Youngjae made a face.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Youngjae didn't look up from where he was pulling strings of battery powered lights out of the final bag, followed by tangles of tinsel and boxes of baubles. They ended up in a pile of festive mess across Daehyun's kitchen counter and finally, the younger smiled over to him, “You can't go back to Busan for Christmas, so I brought Christmas to you.”

 

Within an hour the whole apartment smelled like freshly baked sugar cookies and peppermint. Old reruns of dramas were playing on the tv, and the sound of cheesy lines and canned laughter were steady in the background while Daehyun was standing on a stool to string the lights over the curtain rod.

 

Youngjae stood a way back, flour dusted still over his nose and cheek, “A little to the left.” He said, squinting in concentration. Daehyun's tongue was peeking out the corner of his mouth as he leant further leftward to tug the string slightly until Youngjae called out that it was perfect and rushed to the wall to turn out the lights. It wasn't much really, but the string of lights illuminated the room in warm yellow and refracted off the red glass of baubles Youngjae had strung around on the corner of books in Daehyun's case, and hung off coat hooks along the wall.

 

“It's beautiful.” He said and Youngjae shrugged. Modest to the very end.

 

“It's what you deserve.”

 

They ended up curled together on the couch. Daehyun didn't know how it happened, but with Youngjae's head tucked snug under his chin and his hair tickling at his nose, he knew there was no where he would rather be.

 

*

 

“Junhong help your brother set the table, please!” His mother called down the hall. Junhong was laying on his stomach across the living room floor with Mochi playfully sniffling at his face. The dog's tongue was hanging out of his mouth as he snuffled in closer, his body warmly tucked up in a dog-sized woollen sweater purchased for him by Junseo a couple weeks before.

 

“Coming!” The boy said, then brushed a hand across Mochi's head and across his ears. The pup didn't like it and he retaliated with a small playful jump, his paws pressing onto Junhong's shoulders as the boy tried his very best to push himself up into a sitting position so as to do as his mother told him. It had been strange when he'd first come to Seoul as nothing more than a child swept up in a tide that was carrying him far away from home. The six of them had tried to make the most of what they had, and over the years they'd been together they'd built traditions of their own to fill in the gaps in their chests left behind in their family homes with their parents who missed them more than they'd ever admitted. Now, with his parents in Seoul and the Choi family living together again, Junhong had easily fallen back into old routines.

 

Mochi was hot on his heels as Junhong walked down the hall and to the kitchen, where he gathered plates and cutlery and carried them dutifully to the table to lay each place in preparation for when his mother's brilliant cooking was ready. A part of Junhong found it funny, though, the way he had spent years wishing with everything he had to be back of the warmth of his parents home by the sea, eating his favourite foods and unwrapping presents while hot chocolate steamed beside him, when now he ached for the company of his steady friends.

 

“Have seen the present Santa left you under the tree?” Junhong's father asked as he carried the first of the food out to set it on the table. Junhong felt dizzy with the smell, all rich spices and delectable sauces tied perfectly together with memories from long before.

 

“You didn't have to get me anything, Pa.” Junhong smiled.

 

“Nonsense.” The man laughed and shook his head with bright and doting eyes, “Both my sons deserve the world.”

 

When Junhong was stuffed round with dinner and cake and his family's love he pulled his jacket on and zipped it right up to his nose. His parents had gone to bed, and Junseo was somewhere off with Mochi and Junhong tried to be as quiet as he could while pulling on his big, snow proof boots and opening the door into the darkness of the hallway. It was cold outside, but Junhong didn't mind. He blew out clouded breath into the snow and watched as it billowed around him while he walked step by step, mile by mile through tangling and twisting streets. If he didn't know the way so well, he thought it would feel like getting lost, turning left and right on curling streets until the world seemed to be going round and round in circles.

 

He made it to the block one minute before midnight and brushed snow from his hair with his right hand while his left knocked four times on the door of number twenty-two. Small feet pattered excitedly on the floor, then others followed with a heavier tread and Yongguk opened the door. The big blue sweater he wore softened him into appearing like a big, warm teddybear and black rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.

 

“Junhong, what are you doing here?” He asked while Tigger peered through his legs and over Yongguk's shoulder Junhong could see Yongnam sitting on the couch, watching them both with a cigarette smouldering between his fingers.

 

“I didn't want to spend a Christmas without you.”

 

Full lips twitched into the whisper of a smile and the door opened wider and warm air brushed over Junhong's face.

 

“Then come inside.”

 

 

*

 

The snow was falling slow and steady by the window as Himchan looked out. He could feel the cold as it came through the glass and had to fold his arms across his bare chest to keep it from getting to him. Youngjae had gone out a few hours before, leaving him alone with Jongup in the expanse of their new apartment, a home they could finally be proud to call their own with space enough for the three of them to live comfortably. A couple of years ago it would have felt like a luxury incomparable, and even now he knew the six of them could pile in comfortably with plenty of room to spare. Besides, unlike the others he'd always been okay with sharing.

 

Ever since he was little, Himchan had loved Christmas. He adored the surprise, the bright lights and even brighter colours and how they danced across the snow like magic. He loved the way his mum always smiled, and the way his dad would laugh loudly while he and his sister got icing over their cheeks as they ate gingerbread men bit by bit until nothing was left but sticky sugar across their fingertips. Once he'd grown older it had been so much less about the gifts and more about the company. That first year the six of them had spent in Seoul, they hadn't been able to afford gifts and instead they all piled pillows across their tiny living room floor and lay on their backs staring at the cracking paint on the roof. He had known that Junhong found it the hardest, followed next by Daehyun, but he would never be able to forget the feeling in his chest late that night when his five friends smiled and laughed like it was the first Christmas they'd ever had, and he realised a whole new meaning to the word family.

 

Of course that had been long before he had known he was in love with Jongup, and even longer before Jongup realised the same. Back then he couldn't imagine the look of disappointment on his father's face the Christmas he had found out, nor consider the sound of his mother crying as she begged him to give up the only person he ever loved in favour of their perfect ideal. For a long time Himchan blamed himself for not being careful enough, for kissing Jongup when he thought not even God was watching.

 

They'd been like children with matchsticks, he thought, having too much fun to care about getting burned.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Sheets rustled on the bed, and Himchan turned slightly to glance back. Jongup rose naked and wrapped the warmth of their duvet around himself as he approached to stand behind the man he loved. His chin dug slightly into Himchan's shoulder and the very tip of his nose brushed just behind his ear while breath fanned out over cooling skin.

 

“I thought you were sleeping.”

 

“I was.” Jongup smiled and pulled at the corners of the blanket to wind it around Himchan, too. He squeezed, and Himchan couldn't help the hint of a smile that pulled at his lips as warm affection surged through him until he had to turn in Jongup's arms and enclose him in his own.

 

Jongup's eyes were still heavy lidded with sleep and satisfaction while roses bloomed across his cheeks and coloured the very tip of his pointed nose. With mussed hair and kiss swollen lips, Himchan thought this version of Jongup was the most beautiful, and he'd been pinching himself every day in disbelief that someone so spectacular could be all his.

 

They didn't go anywhere on Christmas day anymore, and Himchan had spent the better part of two years apologising again and again until Jongup begged him to stop. Apologies were the only thing Himchan thought he could give. He wanted to drop onto his knees and grovel at his beloved's feet because he didn't believe he could be forgiven for taking Jongup's family away, for the bruises that had marked his skin that day, for taking a risk he never should have taken but he didn't, because Jongup's hands on his face stopped him. They looked at one another for a long moment with palms warm on cheeks, then they were kissing and they were like children with matchsticks again, burning steady and bright.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Snow, cookies and matchsticks.


End file.
